


La Douleur Exquise

by Omnibee13



Series: Brothers In The Dark [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Doin the big old smoochies, Guilt, I need a damn editor because all I do is wax poetic about Vergil's feefees..., Internal Conflict, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, NOT BETA READ I DIE LIKE A WARRIOR, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Titles are hard, Unrequited Crush, Vergil is forced to be Honest and BOY is that hard for that man.., alcohol use, nero's mom, soft, some grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibee13/pseuds/Omnibee13
Summary: Following the Hoarfrost incident and his near death experience, Vergil has kept to himself and tried to come to terms with his feelings towards Dante, when the latter drops a bombshell..
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Brothers In The Dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038610
Comments: 36
Kudos: 91
Collections: Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	1. Égaré

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be my longest work in this series, hence the long time between the last installment and this one. 
> 
> Omni, the Patron Saint of Eye Strain, apologizes for the pain she's about to inflict upon theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... Stick around, though, shit gets good around Chapter 3.. I think..
> 
> Once completed, check the last notes on the piece for the sountrack I used to write this godawful abomination and more channel news.

The days and weeks following the Hoarfrost incident, Vergil kept his word and did not accompany Dante or Nero on any more jobs. Dante didn’t argue with him, all things considered. Their last two jobs had been nothing but terribly for his older twin, so if he wanted to sit it out for a while, Dante wasn’t going to bust his balls. This was a double edged sword. On the one hand, Vergil could stay home and read in peace and quiet. On the other hand, Dante only had so many books that either weren’t demonic bestiaries or magazines, of either the gun or nudey type. So while Vergil could read and re-read William Blake poetry, and he had countless times, he wasn’t sure how long he could do it with the state of mind he found himself in.

 _Which state of mind was it, exactly?_ He asked himself, having retreated yet again to the quiet of the sitting room, cut off from and behind the main body of the shop. It was cozy there, though a far cry from the sitting room that Eva had doted on when she was alive.. Just a well-loved and well-worn sofa, a scuffed wooden coffee table with too many water rings, and an old model television that only worked every so often, and would more often than not just be turned to the local news channel for the dual purpose of white noise to fill the silence and to learn about local demonic activity quicker. 

Sitting, legs folded under himself, decidedly NOT dressed as he would have normally been, Vergil half pondered the question, and half read from one of the few actual books Dante had in his collection. Dante had admitted, laughing, that it was too scary for him to finish, so that’s how it ended up in the freezer. Vergil wasn’t sure how Mr. King would feel about it, but it was ironic considering what happened to Jack Torrence in the book. Dante had spent a lot more time with somewhat steady access to food, so he was decidedly better fed than Vergil was.. So Vergil found himself wearing Dante’s hand-me-downs, much to his chagrin. In this case, a loose grey sweater, thin from being washed too many times, and – Vergil wanted to gag – denim jeans. This was all fluff in his mind, though, he realized. Focusing on how much he hated the clothes he was wearing, they were still Dante’s clothes, still smelled of him, and Vergil was still forced to face the facts of his current, mutually terribly and utterly – utterly – exquisite situation.

Vergil nearly died. In the moments before he lost consciousness, he had tried to act on the latent urges that had been plaguing him since he met back up with Dante again. If it was successful or not, Vergil was irritatingly unsure. He knew, without knowing, that he had managed to kiss Dante – An incident he had begun referring to as The Near Death Experience Kiss. It was a kiss, he decided. He had kissed more of Dante’s lower lip and chin than he had his entire mouth, but it counted. After that, things got fuzzier, but things did come to him later, like a drunkard remembering what happened during a black out. Some things stuck out, some things still seemed dreamlike. So while the time between The Near Death Experience Kiss and him getting dumped into a bathtub fully clothed was fuzzy, one incident from the night remained incredibly clear: Dante kissed him back. It was chaste enough, on the nose, but the way that Dante had been looking at him just before he leaned in to do so set Vergil on fire.

_No. NO._

Vergil was trying to be firm with himself, telling his heart firmly that it was Dante teasing him, Dante being a shitstain, it definitely was _not_ Dante reciprocating any feelings back at him. 

Although…

Vergil found himself staring off into space, his book forgotten in his lap. In the dimness of the bedroom, with one arm folded under his head, eyes half lidded and filled with a smile that was just a ghost on his lips, Dante certainly didn’t _seem_ to be the cocky asshole who taunted Vergil atop the Temen-ni-Gru. Vergil swallowed hard and shook his head, as if trying to clear the thoughts. 

_No, nope._

It was all in his head, and it was wrong, and it was just some juvenile nonsense. It meant nothing. Dante kissing him on the nose wasn’t romantic, it was – 

Vergil groaned, almost hitting himself in the face with the book. Why was he still going over this?! Why was he obsessing about this?! Why was the only thing he’d been able to think about since The Near Death Experience Kiss was the Dante Kiss?! 

_Because.. It was just so damn –_

Vergil wanted to throw up, tossing his book aside, flopping back onto the couch, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

_It was cute._

He wanted to die. Vergil didn’t like cute things. He was a force to be reckoned with, the storm on the horizon. It was he, Vergil, who raised the Temen-ni-Gru, a feat even his lord father thought impossible except the most exceptionally strong demons. It was he, Vergil, who pulled himself back together after being near death on Mallet Island. It was he, Vergil, who raised the Qliphoth Tree, ate the fruit, was the current reigning King of Hell. So why did his heart _ache_ so much, thinking about him? 

Vergil decided to settle on the fact that he had recently turned forty, so, therefore, the heart-ache associated with thinking about his twin was just the fact he was getting old and dying. 

Yeah.

Great idea.

“Honey, I’m home~”

Vergil’s groan probably seemed very on-brand for his apparent disdain for his younger twin. Dante appeared in the doorway, in one hand a six pack of some form of brown-bottle beverage or another, and a paper grocery sack in the other. 

“You do anything today?” Dante asked, conversational enough, passing through the sitting area to the kitchenette. Vergil flipped a page in his book, completely having lost his place without a hope of finding it again. He heard some shuffling, assumed that Dante was putting whatever groceries he managed to come by away. The kitchenette had next to no counter-space, a few cupboards that were mostly bare most of the time, and a fridge similarly usually empty. Dante lived on take-out and empty carbs, it seemed, and Vergil had yet to raise the issue with him. He’d prefer to try to cook a meal, but ingredients cost money and Dante was the definition of a spendthrift. 

“Read,” Vergil replied, picking up again on a different page than he last remembered entirely. “I assume your day was a bit more consequential?”

“Did a job with Lady and Trish,” Dante called back. 

“I’m surprised you came home,” Vergil said, shrugging to himself. “Is it not your custom with those two to go out and get belligerent after a successful hunt?” At least it had been. Dante very rarely spent time alone, and in all fairness, spending nights with Vergil counted as being “alone” if overheard conversations from Those Two Women were any indication. Not that Vergil eavesdropped.. 

“Yeah, well,” his twin said, ambivalence in his voice. “My share is spoken for in bills and what I picked up at the bodega so uh.. Yeah, not a lot of “go act as Trish’s pussy-magnet trap boy” money.” Dante broke off laughing at his own joke and Vergil was deeply confused. “So. I thought we’d just hang out at home, huh?” Vergil’s eyes narrowed. _We?_

“I find it hard to believe that Nero hasn’t reached out for your company?” He said, trying to sound ambivalent himself. 

“Nope,” Dante replied back, drawing out the “oh.” “Him and KyKy are having some mandated “just us date night,” or some cutesy shit, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

_Oh no._

The weather was starting on the local news station and Vergil found his attention on neither it, nor _The Shining_ in his lap. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ He thought. _You can exist within the same proximity as him, hopefully without a fight, for the evening. Or, if not a fight, definitely not any tension. There isn’t anything between you anyway, it was a silly kiss, in the back of a van, when you thought you were going to die. Stop obsessing over it --_

 _But .._ V’s sotto voice came, very softly in the back of his mind as Vergil inhaled and caught the faintest hint of Dante’s cologne. _He kissed you back._

“I brought you a drink,” Dante said, coming around the other side of the couch. Vergil was almost thankful for the distraction from his internal dialog, when he reached out for it. Dante was grinning broadly as he pressed a cold glass into his hand. 

“Oh, Jesus, Dante,” Vergil said, frowning and sniffing at his drink. He almost reared back. Definitely some mixed drink made with some form of strong alcohol. “I thought you meant tea.”

“It won’t kill ya, lightweight,” Dante said with a chuckle, as he flopped down on the couch. Vergil shifted, leaning his back against the armrest, his folded knees acting as a physical barrier between himself and Dante. Dante saw like a stereotypical man, legs spread, one arm over the couch, and the other tipping a brown bottle to his lips. “Besides, if memory serves, you’re a fun drunk.”

Vergil sipped it, pulled a face, and set his glass down. Why couldn’t it have been wine? He could manage a glass or two of wine. 

“If memory serves,” Vergil said, marking his place in his book. “The last time we were drunk together, it wasn’t fun, it ended with me passing out and being robbed.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Dante teased. “Don’t worry, this one isn’t vodka. This one is tequila.”

“Am I to assume you spent some of that money from your share not spoken for with bills, on alcohol?” Vergil asked, one eyebrow raised as he went to put his book aside. 

“No,” Dante scoffed. He took another swig, and after swallowing, said softly, “I got some chips too..”

“Dante,” Vergil scolded, sighing. He unfolded himself from his previous position and went to stand. 

“Where you going?” Dante asked. 

“Up to my room.”

“Oh, come on.”

Dante had moved quickly, grabbed Vergil’s sleeve. 

“We haven’t hung out just the two of us in a hot minute,” Dante said, giving him a certain look. Vergil exhaled, bowing a hair out of his face. 

“Fine,” he said, sitting back down. Vergil resumed his previous position, keeping Dante at bay. “Though I’m not going to get intoxicated with you tonight.” Dante looked very pleased with himself and grabbed hold of the remote, starting to skim through what channels they could get. 

“Works for me, my guy,” he said, easily. “It’d be nice to just talk, hm?”

Vergil was on edge, but he did his best to stifle his more paranoid and aggressive tendencies. Dante was not his enemy, Dante was not looking to hurt him. In fact, in the quiet, dark hours of the morning, Dante was the centerpiece in several less-savory imaginings. So he just exhaled again, hoping to give the impression he was bored and this was all beneath him and that he was merely indulging his little brother, less than he was wanting this interaction. 

“Very well,” he said, smoothly. He lifted the glass Dante gave him again, nose wrinkling before he took another sip and shuddered. “First topic of discussion. What in creation is that?”

“Uhhh,” Dante said, eyebrows knitting together in thought. Vergil gave him a look. Did he forget already? “Tequila and sweet and sour mix? And like a sugar cube? I tried to remake something Lady drinks a lot when we go out.”

“Lady drinks like a sailor, then,” Vergil muttered, around another sip. He was mostly forcing himself but .. the alcohol did make his chest rather pleasantly warm. He supposed he could ignore it, for now. It was just one drink, and the sooner he finished it, the sooner he’d not have to drink any more of it.

“Compared to you, yeah,” Dante allowed, with a shrug. “So. You’re really not bored with sitting around here all day?” Vergil shrugged and made a small “hm” sound when he did so.

“I appreciate the peace and quiet,” he admitted. Dante made a knowing sound himself, tilting the bottle to his lips again. 

“That’s good,” he said, finally. “Better than you going out wandering.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow at that.

“I go out sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“I go for walks.”

“You go to see anyone?”


	2. Connaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two words with the ability to shatter all things, Vergil's heart especially, are uttered..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, that's a good place to begin and end the previous chapter. Now I can end this one in a way that really hurts the readers, hopefully in all the right ways - " the red wine I'm drinking..

Vergil paused, tilting his head. Dante’s expression gave nothing away, his blue eyes on the television, he had turned the channel to a program where some woman was far too bubbly and far too invested in making a quiche. 

“No,” he said, finally, and firmly. Dante glanced at him. 

“Because, it’d be okay if you did,” he continued. Vergil sighed, letting his eyes closed, and took a longer drink of the cocktail Dante had brought him. It tasted awful, but what was the old saying? Liquid courage? He needed a little. Nearly his entire being was telling him to storm off, either upstairs or outside and far away, but the human part of him, the part that had become irritatingly dominate, the kind and gentle demeanor of V within his mind, was telling him to stay planted. _See where this goes.._ “You’re forty,” Dante said, going for another drink. “Not dead.”

“I assure you, I’m not seeing anyone. The ladies here in Capulet City are far more your taste,” Vergil said, falling back on his old standard of “be calm, cool, and insulting.” 

“I didn’t specify if it was a chick.”

Vergil froze. Dante didn’t seem too bothered by the comment, and for a minute, Vergil’s hand itched to smack him. He _would_ say something like that. The idea that he’d make such a statement, so casually, infuriating. Vergil didn’t think Dante knew about his secret. His proclivities for attraction for males is one thing, but to make that jump to the attraction he had for his male twin was preposterous. Dante was just fishing, Vergil decided. 

“ .. How long have you known?” He asked, conversationally enough. He figured he had another four or five gulps of his truly terribly drink left. He wanted to get through it quickly. 

“Known what? That you’re gay?” Dante asked, turning his head to look at Vergil. Vergil said nothing, just sipped his drink. “ .. It’s not the ‘50s anymore, Verg.”

“I don’t want to upset Nero,” he said, softly but honestly. Dante made a noise like a snort.

“I don’t think the kid will care.”

“Isn’t that a dangerous pastime for you, Dante?”

“Hm?”

“‘Thinking,’” Vergil said, bringing the glass to his lips once more. Dante snorted, clearly amused, before draining the rest of his beer and going to stand. 

“You’ve always been an asshole, Verg,” he said, with a sigh. “I’m getting another. You want anything?”

“I’m certain I don’t,” Vergil said, airily enough. Dante’s words stung, even as his footsteps receded. That was why nothing would come of this crush of his, Vergil decided. Dane thought he was an asshole, and he wasn’t wrong. Vergil knew he could be acerbic, sardonic, sarcastic, and mean. 

How long Vergil was stewing on that, he didn’t know, but he was surprised when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, one that squeezed. 

“You’re tense,” Dante said, bluntly. “You don’t learn to relax, you’re gonna go grey.” Vergil rolled his eyes. He took another drink, wincing through it. Maybe three or four more gulps now. Even though person to person touching was terribly awkward for Vergil, he found it hard to like the idea of it, let alone the act in practice, he had to admit .. Dante’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing and releasing rhythmically, felt good. 

Fighting against it, Vergil waved Dante off. 

“You fancy yourself a regular comedian this evening,” he commented, while Dante came around the other side of the couch and settled into this spot again. “I don’t know why you’d be so curious about my non-existent love life.” Time for him to fish a little. Perhaps, if he knew that he didn’t have a chance, he could put the crush to bed once and for all. “You, the man who is constantly surrounded by two beautiful and often half-dressed women.” 

“Lady and Trish aren’t my type,” Dante said, smoothly. Too smooth, Vergil decided, for it to be false. 

“I shudder to know what your type would be, little brother,” Vergil said, going for his next sip. _How anyone drank something this bitter…_

“Well, you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” Dante offered, smirking. Vergil gave him a withering look. 

“What would that prove?” He demanded. 

“Call me curious.”

Vergil huffed and looked away from him. It took a minute, his heartbeat in his ears, before Vergil settled on what he was going to say. 

_You.._

_Someone tall, broadly built, with a lopsided smile and blue eyes.._

_The legendary demon hunter, the only being on this earth stronger than I am.._

“No,” he said, softly, shaking his head. Dante frowned to him, at that, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something more. But he seemed to drop it, going back to the television program he certainly was not actually watching and drinking his beer. Vergil sighed, wondering how Dante’s prying into his personal life somehow made him the bad guy. “ .. What about you? If Lady and Trish aren’t your type, who is?”

“Why do you think Trish even would be?” Dante countered, raising an eyebrow at him. Vergil shrugged. “She looks like Mom.”

“In a certain light,” Vergil allowed. He hadn’t wanted to break to Dante about Trish’s roll in his torture under Mundus, and as Trish herself had never broached the subject with Vergil himself, he decided to err on the side of not causing unnecessary drama, and left well enough alone. “What about Mary?”

Dante snickered and shook his head.

“We made the attempt, but it didn’t work out,” he admitted. “We made better partners than we did “partners.”” Dante even made finger quotes, which made Vergil believe that he was being serious. 

“No harm in trying, I suppose,” Vergil said, hiding his satisfaction at Dante being currently single and Those Two Women not monopolizing his time in a non-platonic way.

“Which is why you need to get out there!” Dante said, grinning wolfishly. Vergil rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. It was mostly ice and bitter tasting booze now, so he set it down when he was finished. 

“I have very high standards,” Vergil lied. Dante leaned forward and picked up his discarded glass. 

“Well, princess, if you shared them, I might be able to help you find a guy,” Dante quipped, getting up with his beer in one hand, Vergil’s glass in the other. The alcohol was predictably already being felt in head and chest. Vergil scoffed at him.

“Impressive attempt, but my answer remains the same,” he called after Dante as he retreated back into the kitchen. Though he remained cool outside, he was ever suspicious and paranoid inside. Why was Dante asking so many questions? Why did Dante open the evening with “I know you’re gay,” of all things?

His legs were beginning to ache, so he stretched them out for a moment, taking up most of the couch, though Vergil quickly brought his knees back up when he heard Dante enter the room again. Forty or not, Dante was the type to sit on someone if they were in “his” spot. Surprise, however, turned to disgust when Dante rounded the corner of the couch and, still grinning, held a fresh drink out to Vergil.

“I told you, I’ve got zero interest in becoming intoxicated with you tonight,” Vergil growled, not taking the offered drink. 

“You won’t, I really bitched it up for ya,” Dante said, with a wink.

“I don’t think you know how winks work.”

“I added an extra sugar cube. C’mon~”

“The sweetness isn’t the issue, you child.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Dante said, the teasing edge to his voice doing little to dull the sincerity in his eyes. Vergil’s face was flushed, but he could say it was from the previous ( terribly ) mixed drink if Dante brought it up, and not from the look he was giving him. “Just trust me, huh?”

 _In all fairness_ , V purred, twirling his cane as he leaned against a wall in Vergil’s mind, while in the real world, Vergil took the offered glass without any more fuss. _He did keep you alive after you were poisoned~_

Vergil sipped his drink and swore at V in his mind, violent and vicious, but the slimmer, younger man just smiled, tiredly, and shrugged it off.

“How’zat?” Dante asked, sitting back down. Vergil pulled a face and Dante burst out laughing. “You really are a lightweight, huh?”

“I am not a lightweight,” Vergil attempted, almost coughing. He set his drink down. “It just tastes awful.”

“What would you have rather had?” Dante asked, going back to his conversational tone. Vergil almost missed it.

“Wine,” Vergil answered, off-hand. 

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever have any wine-money,” Dante said, with a shrug, and Vergil wasn’t sure if he was joking. “Mark my words, I’ll get you a drink you like, yet.” Vergil rolled his eyes and looked back at the television. Now the far-too-bubbly lady was gushing about different kind of omelets. Apparently, it was an egg episode. 

Dante wasn’t lying. The second drink was definitely sweeter; though that did little to take the sharp alcoholic edge off the drink itself. Vergil could think about it for a moment, because the brothers lapsed into silence. Every so often, there would be the soft liquid noise from Dante tipping his beer bottle to his lips, swallowing two or three times each go. The goofy lady on the TV bid them farewell and the next program was a fat man who seemed content to talk about making the best rack of lamb imaginable. 

It was nice. To be able to just exist in the same space as his twin. They had gotten back having to be at each others’ throats every few hours to sate their desire to be the strongest Cambion between the two of them. They could exist, side by side, or at least within arm’s and sword’s reach, and not have the urge to strangle each other. When had that last happened last? Vergil himself could not recall. They had to have been children, younger than they had when it all came crumbling down atop them.. Vergil soon became lost in his thoughts. 

“Other than the whole Hoarfrost thing,” Dante said, bringing him back to reality. “Are you okay? I mean.. Are you happy here? Did you get what you were looking for, after all these years, or..?” 

Vergil glanced at him, didn’t move his head to look at him properly. Dante’s tone was too sincere, too heart-felt, too real.. It was too comfortable, too comforting. It was all Vergil wanted was to be protected and loved, but decades upon decades of never actually having it, left him prickly and mistrustful. He had learned to purchase affection, to view it as a transaction, a give and take. No one did it just because they wanted to. He had even, by the time Nero was probably conceived, convinced himself that even his family had fallen into that pattern. Sparda loved him because he was his heir and the one expected to carry on his infernal legacy, but he still abandoned him. Eva loved him because she was his mother, and that was instinctual for her, but instincts had their limits; it was Eva’s “betrayal” that soured him so much on the concept of love, when he was a younger man. Vergil almost could have forgiven her for being afraid and fleeing, but for a time, he thought she fled without her children. Even dogs went back into danger for their pups.. Then, of course, there was Dante. He had thought Dante had died in the same inferno that consumed Eva, and for a time, before “Gilver” found “Tony Redgrave,” he thought Dante’s love was pure. Then, of course, Vergil bitterly assumed that Dante’s love was as false as the others. 

And, of course, there was Claudia. Not “Claw”-dia, but “Clow”-dia. She was very specific and she was very pretty and she was very, very affordable. She taught Vergil how to kiss, how to make love, how to pleasure a woman, and all of it for next to nothing at all, she said, because she loved him. And for a time, Vergil believed it. He spent several warm Fortuna days and nights, languid with Claudia, living and breathing and eating and drinking Claudia. He had something Dante didn’t have, and something Dante couldn’t steal from him. He had Claudia, he had love, he had protection.

Until he didn’t. 

Until Claudia started to speak of marriage and aristocracy and how Vergil was the son of Sparda and that if her womb quickened, their son could be the second coming of the deity she worshiped. 

So Vergil realized, he was a mean to an end. Even to sweet Claudia, with her butter-soft, faux-sincere eyes, cupid’s bow lips, and red-gold hair, always tucked under her demure and chaste veil. Even she wasn’t real, in her affections. Even she had motives, reasons, aspirations that superseded simple unconditional love. He couldn’t find this .. infantile, primitive, human notion of “love,” he couldn’t even _pay_ for it. So it must have been a myth. Something made up by mothers to sooth infants at their breasts. 

Tragedy after tragedy influenced bad decision after bad decision, that eventually lead Vergil to suffering unspeakable horrors at the hands of Mundus, falling so far from grace that his rebellion against Sparda’s legacy in the resurrection of the Qliphoth Tree was on a biblical scale. 

“Uh.. Earth to Verg?”

Vergil was snapped out of his deep thoughts and looked at Dante, properly, this time.

“Hm?” He hummed, attempting to look casual. Dante snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Guess that answers that question,” he said, bluntly.

“Which question?”

“If you’re okay here,” Dante said, leaning forward to get a better look at him, his elbows on his knees. “If you’re happy here. If you found what you were looking for. But then you go all quiet, get a thousand yard stare going and .. I just worry about you.” 

Vergil had mixed feelings about that, but he swallowed them to give Dante the most sincere face he could muster. 

He meant to say “you have nothing to worry about,” but what came out was:

“Don’t worry about me.”

Dante pursed his lips, clearly unconvinced. 

“But I do.”

Vergil swallowed, his throat clicking. There was something terribly _raw_ in Dante’s tone. He had never thought he’d be on the receiving end of it. He had the urge to steady his nerves, and that was saying something; he was normally so steady, but something about Dante just made him come undone, in the most awful and wonderful ways. His hand almost shook as he took a sip of his drink. _Liquid courage, liquid courage, liquid courage._

“And I thank you,” Vergil said, sincerely. This was hard for him, but something about the way he looked made Vergil weak in the knees as well as deeply afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of intimacy, just afraid. And Vergil didn’t do well with fear. “Truly. You’ve .. Helped me.” 

Dante’s eyes searched his face and Vergil felt like an insect under a microscope. They were twins, but looking at Dante was not quite looking in a mirror. Vergil’s eyes were blue grey, whereas Dante’s were a more honest blue with flecks of grey. Yes, there was a difference. Dante’s features eventually softened and he seemed to smile, though it was sad and closed lips. 

“Well, then I’m happy for that,” he said, finally and the tension in Vergil’s shoulders and jaw finally relaxed. “I spent years thinking about where you were and what you were doing. So, I guess, as long as I know where you are – even if it sounds boring and sad as fuck, knowing you’re all alone here, with no one on your mind, reading dusty old books from sun up til sun down – then that’s better than thinking you’re someplace else. Alone, or hurt, or upset..”

Listening to Dante talk, watching his face as he did, Vergil’s heart was both terribly tight and beating fearfully strong. 

_He’s being honest. He’s being sincere. He’s not supposed to be capable of this.._

V’s chuckle was low, deep in his chest, and Vergil was never certain exactly where he was when he decided to sneak up on him, always in his psyche, always prepared to siddle up and whisper something in his ear about honesty and sincerity and how love was real and that despite everything that he had done, or said, or thought, one person had never actually stopped loving him. 

_But he is. So, it would only be honest and sincere of you, as well, to share something deeply personal with him.. Mayhaps.. He’d be receptive to it._

The words had left Vergil’s mouth before he had time to process the sheer absurdity of what that cane-wielding fop was saying. He was starting to blame the alcohol, both for the slip in his brain/mouth filter and for V’s ability to come and go like vapor, and, for good measure, the warmth that had blossomed in his chest and spread to his face, flushing his cheeks. 

“I have someone to think of,” he said, quickly. “I don’t just sit here, no thoughts, empty-headed.” 

Vergil’s hand quickly found the awful bitter-sweet mixed drink Dante had brought him, if only to give his mouth something to do besides spilling his secrets. 

Dante, for his part, had his face split into a wide grin, a light in his eyes that made Vergil both nervous and wary, as well as fascinated and needy. 

“I knew it,” his twin said, glee clear in his tone and expression. “You’re forty, not dead, I knew you had somebody. Now you _have_ to tell me about him. S’only fair~”

_Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh…_

Vergil attempted to scoff, but it came out sounding more like a cough. Dante laughed at him, though not cruelly. He was certain he looked like an absolute fool. Living in someone else’s home, wearing someone else’s clothes, head-over-heels in love with the man who wore a more roguish version of his own face. He wanted to flee, but he also didn’t. All those fantasies about how he would finally broach the subject with Dante. Some were demure, where Vergil was confident in his own ability to be intimate and affectionate without being awkward. He’d hold Dante’s hand, their fingers laced, and he’d explain himself. He’d let the younger man know how, even after Mundus’ torment, he thought of him. How he’d felt a connection, something like a shared soul, and how much of an idiot and a fool he was to have thrown away so much time pursuing power when, if he had just taken the time to look what he had in front of him, he’d never have thrown it away. How that revelation after he ate of the Fruit of the Qliphoth tree, when Dante said “no wonder you threw away everything you ever had,” how deeply it hurt because of how agonizingly true it was. And the one thing Vergil never wanted to throw away again was Dante.

Other were bolder and far less chaste. Sometimes he’d take charge and just _take_ Dante’s mouth with his own, and just let the actions speak and not bother with clumsy words. As eloquent as he was when he was threatening annihilation, making grandiose speeches about his ultimate goal of achieving insurmountable power, and sitting the throne of Hell as a storm and scourge upon his enemies, Vergil was terribly when it came to words of the heart. But, and God bless Claudia, despite her failings and faults, she still gave Vergil two things he was deeply proud of: Nero and the ability to kiss. 

But right in that moment, on the couch, with just Dante and just him, and the man on the television laughing at his own joke about Mary’s Little Lamb as he displayed how best to use butcher’s twine to tie the rack of lamb, and his bitter-sweet cocktail leaving a water ring on the coffee table, Vergil wanted to run. All of those fantasies suddenly being made real was too much. Way too much. He wasn’t ready for this yet, he wasn’t prepared for the ultimate rejection, he was even worse prepared if Dante reciprocated. Vergil’s heart couldn’t take it, his entire being was far too tense and tight and he needed to leave before he made a fool of himself. 

Dante was expecting an answer and Vergil almost didn’t catch that his expression closely resembled the one he wore the night after the Near Death Experience Kiss. 

“I had already said, no,” Vergil said, sensing an out. That awful drink Dante made him. As casually as he could, he lifted it and tried to drink from it. It was a willful exercise, taking more than a single gulp, but the sooner he finished it, in his mind, the sooner he could get out of this conversation by lying and saying it had gone to his head and he needed a lie down. “As fascinating as I’m sure my love life seems – ”

“Verg.”

“ – It’s still a private matter, and I’m just not – ”

“Vergil.”

“ – Comfortable in discussing it, we should avoid this kind of interaction entirely – ”

“Vergil.”

Exasperated with the interruptions, Vergil glared at his younger twin, stern.

“What?” He demanded, incensed by how casual and calm and charming Dante’s expression was. 

With a laugh and a small head-shake, Dante exhaled, blowing a lock of hair out of his face. 

“Vergil,” he said, softly. “I know.”

“Then why do you keep pestering me about it?” Vergil said, not catching the innuendo. Dante set his beer bottle down on the coffee table and turned his body to face Vergil more square. 

“No, Vergil, listen,” he said, reaching out and somehow managing to rest a hand, still gloved from work, on Vergil’s leg. 

Vergil looked at him, frowning, eyebrows together in confusion. 

“I _know_ , Vergil.”

.. Vergil’s heart pounded a steady, frighteningly loud tempo in his ears and his stomach fell down somewhere around his knees. 

..

_Fuck._


	3. La Petite Mort..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Spoiled tonight.. Ruined tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this work is actually, I think about as long as the other two chapters combined. St. Omni, Patron of Eye-Strain, blesses you. Also, the titles to these, if you haven't noticed, are Bilingual Easter Eggs. I have not yet begun to ham it up in here..

The only noise in the room came from the television set, and that was starting to falter as the transmission started to chase and flicker. Outside, a late autumn storm seemed to have decided to pay Capulet City a visit. The temperature was dropping, the wind was picking up, coming up to a howl every so often, and it was affecting the signal, causing small bursts of white noise in between dialogue.

And, to Vergil’s ears, the loudest sound was his own blood pumping. He felt cold and hot, at the same time, and all because of those two stupid, terrible words that passed through Dante’s stupid, terrible, wonderful, beautiful, perfect mouth. 

_I know._

He knew. From the gentle and sincere expression on his face, too, Dante knew what Vergil feared he knew. Vergil steadily realized that Dante had been fishing for information on himself, probably trying to confirm his suspicions. Dante was a hunter, and he had gone through all that, just to trap Vergil, and he succeeded.

In the heavy silence that hung between them, there was also a steadily rising panic. Dante hadn’t moved, as if knowing that his twin was skittish by nature, perhaps knowing that a gentle hand was need here. He had rolled the dice with being direct with him, and Dante was used to taming the wild. He was less skilled at handling his prickly older brother, but he was a fast learner, and he knew him now.

Vergil would later swear that it was V’s influence that forced his hand, and laid it over Dante’s, still resting on his leg, and slowly, shyly, twined his fingers in Dante’s. Whoever did it, it happened, and the booze had definitely gone to Vergil’s head. His face was hot. His heart was thumping. He felt light headed and afraid and tense and – 

_Oh, no_

Dante was absently moving his thumb, just barely grazing the skin of Vergil’s. It as a casual, reassuring gesture, something that came so frustratingly easy to Dante that it almost made Vergil come undone just to accept that someone else was capable of feeling that way towards him. He swallowed hard, not able to look away from Dante and Dante refusing to break eye contact with him. There was something in the gesture that put the initial fears of rejection and mockery to rest. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Vergil could handle humiliation and defeat, after a fashion; he had been dealt his fair share. But acceptance? Would he even dare to hope for returned feelings?

“What do we do now?” 

Vergil almost didn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. He didn’t whisper, but he had. His voice was always firm and steady, but it wasn’t. It was a soft, breathy sound that Vergil was unused to. This wasn’t common for him, this raw uncertainty. He had done risky things before, he had been thrust into dangerous situations, but in all of those things, Vergil always had the confidence he was the strongest creature in the fight. That was fighting. Now, here, trying to deal with affairs of the heart and emotions, he found himself woefully inept and under-prepared. 

Dante, on the other hand.. Vergil found himself feeling somewhat angry that his younger twin appeared as adept at romance and emotional availability as he was fighting and killing monsters. He had more practice at it, Vergil realized. Handsome, perfect, roguish Dante, can’t walk past a woman without her throwing her panties at his feet, can’t look at a man without him feeling jealous. 

When Dante moved, it was almost instinctual for Vergil to move as well, sit up a little straighter, move so his legs weren’t folded and in between them. His heart was in his throat, he felt like was going to vomit out of sheer nerves alone, and he sincerely hoped that he didn’t, because Dante was very close then, almost forcing him to lean back hard into the armrest, his eyes never leaving the raw, hungry expression that Dante wore. 

“I can think of a few things,” Dante breathed, and before Vergil could respond, his lips parting but the words drying up in his throat, he pressed their mouths together. This time, unlike The Near Death Experience Kiss, it was right on the money. 

Vergil thought his heart would explode, but instead, he just .. came undone. Any semblance of that chilly Ice Prince façade he worked so hard to cultivate melted away in the face of Dante’s burning being. He exhaled hard, through his nose, while his eyes fluttered shut and he kissed back. He had been touch starved and attention hungry for so long that Dante’s kiss was more like a glass of water in the desert, than just a kiss. But he was still Vergil, and Vergil was still desperate for control, especially when threatened. Was an open and honest display of affection a threat? Well, it was something that could end up hurting him in the end, so to Vergil, in a way, yes. 

Vergil reached up, the fingers of one hand knotting themselves in Dante’s long hair, the other arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him there. Dante, meanwhile, had one hand on his face, and the other gripping his twin’s shoulder in a vice grip. As if he was afraid, frightened that if he let go of Vergil, he’d disappear again, vanish after a fire, flee after a fight, fall into Hell, get tortured for years on end, become a monster, any number of nightmares that came true. That may have been what Dante was thinking, but what Vergil was thinking was gradually becoming less and less organized and more and more carnal. 

Dante was over him, one knee between his legs, the other helping keeping him upright and standing. Vergil kissed back, hungry, and Dante reciprocated with as much enthusiasm. Vergil was glad that V was quiet in his head; the last thing he wanted, or needed, was to have that skinny poet giving him pointers. He arched his back up, feeling just the fleeting pressure and friction from Dante’s thigh between his legs and the heat therein. He moaned into the still ravenous kiss, but Dante broke away for air first. 

The pair of them were taking deep breaths, looking at each other, blue-grey eyes searching each other’s face. Perhaps what hang in the air was disbelief at what had just happened, perhaps it was thick excitement and that bratty _want_ that the twins never bucked from their childhood. Between them hung a lifetime of questions and fights and heartache and want and unrealized daydreams. If it wasn’t suddenly so _warm_ in the shop, if their heads weren’t fogged with endorphins and hormones, it may have been funny, the fact that the twins swallowed at the same time, as though realizing what they’ve done, and, even heavier, what they knew the other wanted to do. Words weren’t necessary. 

“Shit,” Dante breathed, anyway, his hands going to his belt, fumbling with it. Vergil blinked, his face flushed from more than just the alcohol now, when he realized what Dante was doing. 

“Dante,” he said, surprised by how tight his voice sounded to his own ears. Dante glanced at him, apparently all the blood rushed away from his fingers, because he was finding his buckle just a bit too complex for him to maneuver. Panic? A little? Excited? Yes. Vergil was an avid reader, and he’d read his fair share of Harlequin style rags that exaggerated passion, so he was no stranger to the concept, but he was to being in the thick of such a scene. “Here?!”

Dante blinked at him, an expression on his face as close to _”Are you kidding me?”_ as Vergil had ever seen it, and if he wasn’t having his own circulatory problems at the moment, it may have been amusing enough to have a laugh over. Hell, he was so kiss-drunk on top of drunk-drunk, he might just yet. 

“What’s wrong with down here?” Dante asked, only a little bit thick. Vergil found himself holding onto Dante’s hips, one hand on either side, as if he could stop the other if he wanted it bad enough. 

“On the couch?!” Vergil whispered back, incredulous. “What if someone comes in?”

“I locked the door.”

“Those Women have keys.”

“I don’t care,” Dante exhaled, breathless as he went back, chasing Vergil’s mouth with his. He kept his lips pressed to Vergil’s as he spoke around it, a desperate and feral edge to his voice. “I’ve waited this long, so have you.” No, Vergil’s toes were not curling as his strength failed him in keeping Dante’s hips at bay, the younger man grinding their pelvises together in need. Vergil almost didn’t fight back, at first. He had broken away, though, to speak sense into his impulsive twin, but Dante took that instead as an invitation to help himself to Vergil’s neck and collar bone. 

“Dante,” he attempted, swallowing hard as Dante laid a trail of feather-light kisses to his jaw and along his neck, raising goosebumps as he went. He grit his teeth, conflicted in the best way possible. A part of him wanting to push Dante off, and he could. He was strong, he was the eldest son of Sparda, he was the current reigning King of Hell, but he also wanted to just lay there and let it happen because he had pined for it so long that he was finding himself unable to decide what to do. He settled on putting on the appearance that he didn’t want it, though having it happen on the couch was definitely a no-sale. “Listen to me.. Not right here.. Dant-taa _aaaaayyy_..” He’d deny it if Dante ever brought it up later, but his voice failed him and he drew the name out as he arched up into the warmer body above him, when Dante’s teeth found his collar bone, biting it, and Vergil’s hands balled into the back of Dante’s shirt, pulling. 

“Spot,” Dante said, teeth still around the bone, feeling the give of the skin. “Found yer spot.”

“You didn’t,” Vergil lied, through grit teeth, eyes shut tight. Dante chucked, and he could feel the vibrations from it in his chest. Dante wasn’t very heavy, but he was hot, almost oppressively so. Dante licked the bite, skin unbroken but already discolored just a little. He sat up a little to admire his handiwork, one hand pulling at the loose grey sweater Vergil wore. 

“Bet you have 20 more,” he said, in a kind of hungry way that set shivers up and down Vergil’s spine, the tingles chasing each other as he lay there, pinned but not pinned. “And I aim to find them. I’ll make you come absolutely un-fucking-done.” 

“Dante,” Vergil attempted again. He shook his head, eyes closed.

“You don’t have to play coy anymore,” Dante whispered, softly. 

“I’m not playing coy,” he countered. Vergil took a few deep breaths, trying to grip onto his will and hold it. While Dante’s threat of a good time was tempting beyond belief, Vergil was firm – 

_Great word usage.._

_Shut up, V.._

“Up. Stairs.” He said, resolute, if out of breath. He lifted one hand, fingers barely touching Dante’s face as he watched it, searched his features as he tried to put himself back together. A storm was brewing behind those blue eyes that rivaled the one outside the shop. 

Want.

Need.

Hunger.

These were hard concepts behind Dante’s eyes, but with the way his mouth relaxed and his shoulders became less tense, that lead Vergil to realize the truth that both terrified him and also made him feel ..

Oh, Lucifer be with him, he felt _happy._ It was foreign and strange and the last time he felt it was wrapped up in the thin sheets on Claudia’s bed, while she played with his hair, and he gave serious thought to abandoning his pursuit of power to just be with her. Someone who loved him, unconditionally. The terrifying edge to that was partly due to how unfamiliar it felt, but also because of what _happened_ to this feeling when Claudia pulled the thread and let it all come unraveled around them. 

His heart couldn’t take it. If this was some sick joke, if this was Dante toying with his feelings because _”It’s just fucking with Vergil. Who doesn’t like making that weak crybaby ass break? Pathetic.._

But those fears flew in the face of Dante’s actions. The darkest anxieties in Vergil’s psyche weren’t as tangible as Dante’s warm body pressed against his. If this was some cruel joke, then Dante was deeply committed to the bit, and something about the raw, embarrassingly vulgar way in which his twin spoke to him, voice low and heady, made that possibility seem an _im_ possibility. 

The light clicked on above Dante’s head so apparently that Vergil thought he heard an audible “ding” from the proverbial lightbulb. 

“Upstairs,” he said, as though he had thought of it, and the coolness that came when Dante removed his body from Vergil’s was stark. Vergil was surprised when he felt a hand around his, almost yanking him to his feet. 

However they managed to scramble up the steps, it happened, Vergil slipping once ( as he was in socks ) and Dante shedding layers as he went; why the man felt the need to wear as many heedless accessories as possible to go perform glorified violent exorcisms was beyond him.. Either way, by the time they had gotten to the landing and down the hall where Dante’s room was, the younger had grabbed the elder, had his face and shoulders in a grip, and was trying again to capture his mouth. They almost crashed through the door, Vergil’s back hitting it first. 

They left a trail of clothes behind them, all Dante’s. His coat, his empty gunbelts, those stupid over-strappy boots.. Vergil realized there was significantly less layers between Dante and himself, than himself and Dante. And if the ravenous look in Dante’s eyes was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long. 

Dante put one hand flat on his chest and pushed, the back of Vergil’s knees hitting the edge of his bed and falling onto it. The alcohol was definitely affecting him, as his movement seemed slow even to his mind. Dante kept looking at him as though he were a steak, as he used his teeth to pull at the Velcro straps of his gloves. Vergil was normally so fast, but in the face of what was happening to him now, he felt like he was swimming, whereas Dante was definitely the apex predator in the room. 

The gravity of what was happening and what was likely _about_ to happen hit Vergil hard, though it was cushioned by Dante once again capturing his mouth with his. Dante was feral, and that fit him, since he used teeth and was demanding and greedy. There was a time that Vergil would have sooner chewed off his own leg than allow Dante to pin him, to get the better of him. Well, that was then, this was now, and Dante could tie him to the bed if he wanted to – 

_Wait_

Vergil tried to lean back, to gasp for some air, but Dante was straddling his hips, so all he could do to keep upright was stay on his elbows. Every time he tried to pull away, Dante chased his mouth, made a growl as he tried to bite at Vergil’s lower lip. Even through his tipsy haze, something was becoming clearer to Vergil, and it was less so to do with his body and its aching need and moreso what Dante was signaling he wanted to do _with_ that body and that need. 

“Dante,” he attempted, managing to break away from his mouth long enough to speak the name. Dante had his hands on his shoulders, and pushed, putting Vergil on his back. 

“You look good, like that,” Dante breathed, reaching down, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He tossed it into the corner and out of the way. “You _sound_ good, saying my name..”

If Dante kept this up, Vergil would get distracted again, so he tried his hardest to push away from the desire to just surrender to what was happening and Vergil tried to speak again. 

“Dante –”

That attempt was somewhat weaker because Dante had gripped the hem of his grey sweater and pulled it up. Vergil had gone to lift his arms, to facilitate having it removed, but then Dante pressed down, trapping his arms above his head and, worse, keeping the upper half of Vergil’s face covered. The impromptu blindfold and bonds were effective, in as much as Vergil jerked considerably when a hot mouth came to lay claim to his sternum. 

A noise that was definitely _not_ a moan escaped his lips, followed by a soft gasp. Dante was leaving a trail of kisses and nips as he went along Vergil’s chest. He paused longest to sink his teeth into the skin over his heart, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to pull a whine from between Vergil’s clenched teeth. Dante released his arms, but only because now he was going to work on _Vergil’s_ waistband. 

Able to move, Vergil put his hands on Dante’s shoulders, the latter almost ripping open the button and fly, his thumbs already hooked into the waistband and was poised to pull down. 

“Dante,” he said, clearly. Dante looked at him, and Vergil was certain he looked like a mess. Shirt pushed up near his neck, pants undone, hair messed, face red and lips kiss-bitten. He was certain he looked like a mess because Dante looked deeply pleased with himself. 

“You’ve been,” he said, licking his lips, “playin’ this game since you got back – ”

As tickled as Vergil was to know that as much as he was pining for Dante and waxing poetic in his feelings about as much, Dante was feeling the same way, it was apparent that Dante was an old pro at this and Vergil felt uncharacteristically rusty. He was not adept at this, and while every touch and kiss and mere look sent him spiraling, one thing kept running through his mind, something he had to make it known before Dante ravished him into oblivion. 

“Listen,” he whispered, when Dante once again descended on his neck. Vergil exhaled hard between pursed lips, his eyes shut tight as he struggled against his instinct to either go limp or reciprocate, and staying focused enough to say what needed to be said. “Please – Ah – Dante, be gentle with me – ”

That sounded far more confident in his head, but once he breathed it into reality, Dante chuckled, sitting up, still pinning Vergil. He ground his hips down, Vergil’s hands on Dante’s chest clenching hard while his head fell back, teeth grit as he fought the moan. 

“Spoiled tonight, _ruined_ tomorrow, I can dig that,” Dante whispered, but Vergil shook his head. 

As tempting as that was..

Vergil cupped Dante’s face in his hands, forcing eye contact that wasn’t half-lidded and sex-drunk. 

“Listen to me,” he implored and Dante’s expression softened. 

_He’s worried about the same thing you were.. Rejection. Don’t hurt him, don’t let him think that.._

“Listen,” he whispered, less stress in his tone. They caught their breath together, before Vergil let his eyes fluttered closed, secure in the pause in the action. “I’ve never done this before..”

“I know,” Dante said back, turning his head to press a kiss into Vergil’s palm. He reached up, held that hand, tenderly. Vergil knew, though, that Dante didn’t quite grasp what he was saying.

“I’ve never done _this_ before,” Vergil repeated, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath beneath the other man. 

“Sex?” Dante muttered back, almost laughing. “Um, unless Nero is the Second Coming, I think someone is fibbing~”

“That was .. a bit different,” Vergil said, opening his eyes to actually look at Dante. 

The confused look Dante was giving him was _cute_ and Vergil was too high on his own endorphins and too drunk to feel any kind of way about it aside from smitten. 

“Uhh,” Dante said, raising one eyebrow. This was the man who was just playing the role of “Feral Sex God” a few moments ago.. 

Vergil gave Dante a frank look, and waited. 

… There was that lightbulb again~

Dawning realization lit up Dante’s face. 

“Ohhh,” he said, the word drawn out. “You’ve never -- ?”

“No.”

“With a guy -- ?”

“Never.”

Dante groaned and fell forward, heavy on Vergil, causing the older man to almost yelp in surprise. Dante’s body was a furnace on his chest and Vergil awkwardly pat his back. It seemed the appropriate response. Dante rolled off him, and lay beside him, half on and half off the bed, body limp. 

Mutually, though, something _else_ was decidedly not limp and Vergil was confused by his reaction. 

“.. What now?” He asked. 

“Now I think about what a beautiful, wonderful, innocent little man-baby I have in my bed,” Dante replied, his tone tired, but still light. Vergil frowned. 

“You don’t want to keep going?”

“More than life itself.”

“So let’s?”

Dante shook his head. 

“I can’t do that to you,” he said, softly, absently reaching out to move hair out of Vergil’s face. “You jump around like a virgin, and don’t get me wrong, that’s a turn on if there ever was one for me, but this is a whole new can of worms.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Vergil whispered. They were Cambion. Pain was their birthright. What hurt humans, didn’t phase them. 

“I don’t want to,” Dante assured him. “It might not do to you what it’d do to a human, but I’d prefer not to rip you apart, if I didn’t have to.” Vergil went up to his elbows, sighing. 

“ .. I didn’t realize you were this attentive,” he admitted. Dante grinned, reaching out to pinch Vergil’s cheek. _Something_ was throbbing, and Dante was trying to be cute. Idiot. Buffoon. Fool. _Mine_.. “Don’t.”

“You’re cute.”

Vergil groaned and flopped back onto the bed, hands on his face. He wasn’t sure what made him come undone more: Dante being a sexual brute or Dante being sweet. The fact he could pivot between the two was infuriating and endearing. 

“.. What are we doing, Dante?” He muttered, into his hands. 

“Laying in bed, hornier than fuck, you’re blushing like a virgin and I’m looking at Verg, the Great and Terrible~” Dante quipped, rolling onto his front. He put his hands behind his head, face buried into the thread-bare quilt that acted as his blanket, and groaned. Vergil peeked through his fingers. Dante was grinding his pelvis against the mattress, clearly pent up. _He was going to forgo seeing to his own needs, out of concern for what the sexual act would do to me,_ Vergil thought, swallowing hard. “We’ll try again,” Dante said, muffled by the quilt. “Later. So I don’t hurt you and you don’t hurt yourself.. Uuuggghh, the things I do for love.”

Vergil sat up, mortified by how tight his lap was, even with his pants undone. Dante opened one eye to look at him, watching him. Siting up made his head swim, either because there was no blood in his head – heeee – or because he actually was a lightweight and the two mixed drinks that were 80% tequila and 20% mix had gone straight to his head. He was trying to steel himself to stand and maybe Dante sensed that because he spoke up.

“Watcha doin’?”

“I’m going to go to the restroom,” Vergil muttered, more to make a plan for himself than to answer. “Erm.. Take care of something.”

Dante snorted and sat up on his elbows, belly still to the bed. If Vergil’s cheeks weren’t already flushed, he might have paled from the roguish quality of that grin he was wearing. 

“I said we weren’t doing _that,_ ” Dante purred. He stood up, not as steady as he could be, probably for the same reasons why Vergil’s head was fuzzy. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Vergil blinked, feeling as dull as he probably looked. When Dante put his hands on his shoulders and squeezed, nose to nose with him. Gone was the previous care about Vergil being a virgin to the form of sex Dante had in mind, at first, replaced with that wild, sharp toothed grin. He leaned forward, Vergil very still as he moved, eyes wide and facing forward, frozen in the face of the predatory waves that flowed from the other son of Sparda. 

Dante’s lips brushed his ear, causing a shudder to rack his body, the action ticklish and frightfully intimate.

“Spoiled tonight, _ruined_ in good time,” he whispered. Vergil could have melted into the bed. “But I can’t do it, if you don’t get these..” Dante tugged at the front of Vergil’s waistband. “Off..”

Oh..

_OH.._

. . . 

The storm had broken in Capulet City in the early hours of the morning. The clouds splitting to reveal the bright early November sun. It was too bright, even, and too early, and one figure on the bed curled closer to the other, quilt pulled over his head with a moan. 

If the sun wasn’t a big enough asshole, the phone downstairs in the shop was ringing. It was an ugly, obnoxious sound and Vergil groaned, curling up tighter and pressing to Dante’s chest in an attempt to leech heat off of him. Dante, also, was muttering curses under his breath as consciousness found him. 

Rubbing his face, he sat up, and clamored over Vergil, who grumbled a protest. Dante, nude, was calling whoever dared to be ringing his phone at that hour everything but decent, as he looked for clothes around the disaster zone that was his room. He found jeans, the ones Vergil had peeled off the night before, and with a hop or two, managed to pull them up over his ass. He left them unbuttoned though, because fuck that shit right that moment, as he made his way downstairs. His coat was over the railing of the staircase, and his boots were on different steps. A treasure trail of the night before.. 

Fuck this phone..

Dante rounded the corner to the shop front proper, and around the backside of his desk, lifting the old beast of a phone and putting on his best “customer service voice.”

“Devil May Cry?” He sing-songed, forcing a smile as he did so. That smile faded quickly, as it wasn’t needed. Trish. “What’s up? .. Nah, nah, not much .. Got hammered in front of the boob tube .. Yeah, he was here .. I dunno, we talked? Kinda? .. Well, what the fuck you want from me, babe? .. Nah .. I’ve got the brown bottle flu, okay? Get off my back.. Right.. Right.. Let me take today, have Morrison –” Dante paused to yawn, obnoxious, in Trish’s ear. “Ffffuck.. Tired.. Have Morrison get at me with a job tomorrow.. Not today.. Mhm.. I gotta go take a leak.. I’m not sorry, I told you I’m hung the fuck over, babes.. Okay.. Cool.. Later.” 

Dante hung up and then hurried back up the stairs. He was going to pull the black out curtains in the bedroom window and wrap his arms around the man there with him, and hold tight until sleep took him again, and he’d dare the devil to try to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the slowest build up I've written since 2012, so I hope it was worth it. As promised, the soundtrack for this fic, as used to keep my creative juices flowing is as follows:  
> How Deep is Your Love by The Bird and the Bee  
> I Can't Help Falling in Love With You ( the Haley Reinhart Cover )  
> Can't Keep My Eyes Off of You by Frankie Vallie and the 4 Seasons  
> Kill the Lights by The Birthday Massacre  
> ..  
> As always, your comments are my life blood and nothing makes me happier than to hear feedback and CC from you all. Sorry to have kept you waiting for this. I will try not to get too graphic in the depictions of THE DO in the future, if I can help it, outside of dirty little oneshots that are PWP, so that casual, less raunchy viewers can enjoy these works.
> 
> Hit me up here for requests or, really, any old thing, or, if you so choose, over on Tumblr, at omniverbosity,tumblr.com. That account really needs some love.
> 
> Merci.
> 
> O || M || N || i


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